


666

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, with a dash of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 18:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: “I do believe you’ve been averynaughty lady, detective,” he says, low and dark andoh so perfect, seductive almost.  If she didn’t have a guilty conscience to contend with, of course.  “And we both know what I do to naughty souls, don’t we?”





	666

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer that I don't own Lucifer or any of the show's characters and content.** I just like to play in the devil's sandbox.

******Day 1**

“You’re right,” Chloe says, hands on hips and eyebrows slowly but surely migrating towards her hairline.  Linda all but hangs off her, giggling into the glass she’d kept tight to her chest all the way down to the parking lot and all the way around to Lucifer’s private space (location learned thanks to one easy to please Mazikeen Smith).

His plate really does say “fallen one”.

“Of course I’m right!  I’m _always_ right!  I have the eyes of a _hawk_ , Chlo.  They see _everything and miss nothing,”_ and that’s Ella, speech a little _too_ fast for someone claiming to be sober, but not quite slurred beyond the point of recognition, either.  She stabs two fingers towards her own eyeballs then throws her hand outward and Chloe makes a grab for it before she can do anyone, or herself, an injury, snickering despite herself.

Then Linda gasps and latches onto her arm with surprising strength for someone so _small_ , eyes wide behind her glasses and mouth popped open in wonder.  “Do you think he has _the devil’s number?”_

“Don’t be daft, _no_  phone number can be that short, not even if he emptied his entire bank account onto someone’s lap for the deed.”

“Are you _sure?”_

“Of course I’m sure, I have his number.”

“Well, what about his voicemail?”  Linda asks, seemingly oblivious to the fact she has Lucifer’s contact details, too.

Chloe doesn’t have an answer for that one.  She doesn’t know if Lucifer even _has_ voicemail.  She’s very rarely had to call him, and every time he’d answered within three rings, no matter the hour, no matter his state, no matter the reason for her call.  Which is actually quite touching, now that she thinks ab -

“Ladies,” Ella says, in a tone Chloe has learned to _fear_  in the year she’s known the hellion, “I have an _idea_.”

She feels the cold fingers of dread walk up her spine at the truly _evil_ smirk curving her friend’s mouth.  This cannot possibly end well.

**Day 6**

Their carefully constructed plan of “beg Maze for help, let her know it involves Lucifer, grab the popcorn for the magic show” takes place in Lux, because of _course_  everything dastardly and absurd takes place in the devil’s club, because it makes _complete sense_ for it to happen at Lux... and because they have no other place where it’s likely to work.  Except the precinct.  Except _Chloe_ would have to step up to the plate for that one and... well.  She’d rather avoid getting her hands dirty for this part.

And so they watch from a safe distance (a ten foot radius) as Maze goes on the prowl through the push and pull of dancing bodies, eyes on her prize in the form of one Lucifer Morningstar mingling with a few of his regular patrons, all dashing smiles and jokes lost to the music, casual handshakes and distribution of drinks.  They’re not the only ones watching and Chloe and Ella nod in solidarity when Linda sighs.  Maze in leather is mind-blowing enough, but Maze in a leather _dress_  laced up the sides?  _Damn._

Maze springs her trap and hooks Lucifer away from distractions in favour of her _own_ , demands a dance or twelve “to get the blood pumping” as she whips his jacket off and tosses it aside quite before he knows what force of nature has hit him.  A careless throw to the untrained eye, but _they’re_ waiting in the wings and pounce on it the moment dark eyes flicker from the lost piece of his suit.

She shouldn’t be doing this.  For one, it’s theft.  For two, it’s a violation of Lucifer’s trust.  Sort of.  If his phone has a password on it.  Or if she goes snooping through his contacts (which she won’t).  Or if she handles his phone at all, which she doesn’t.  She just takes hold of his jacket and scurries off to the stairs with it.  If she turns her back and closes her eyes while _Ella and Linda_ do the deed, she’s not _really_  responsible, is she?  No, exactly, so it works.

He does, in fact, have an active voicemail, they discover outside.  But he doesn’t speak at all, and it’s absolutely _criminal_  to have an automated voice do all the talking when anyone calling him could listen to his lovely... _lovely_  voice.  Linda disconnects the call with a troubled look on her face, reaches up to adjust her glasses even though they’re sitting just perfect already.  Nerves?  Guilt?  A sudden attack of the morality Chloe’s squashed underfoot and driven six feet under with her stiletto?  Tough shit, there’s no backing out now and Maze will kill them, _very slowly_ , if they don’t hold up their end of the deal.

... Though she’s curious why the last call in his log is her number, under the title BOE.  And she can’t ask him about it without alerting him to their mischief.  _Damn._

**Day 11**

Lucifer knows.  Or, well, he doesn’t know _exactly_ , but he knows _something_  is up.  She can see it the few times his phone rings and he ignores the call in favour of digging around for personal items or murder weapons or suspects cowering in the corners, caught off guard by their arrival and with nowhere to run.  He frees it from his pocket when he has a few minutes to himself, turning it over and over in his hands, frowning so much she’s tempted to call him on it and warn him of the changing wind.  Instead Ella catches her eye and they share a _look_ , a _conspiratorial_ look that has nervous laughter bubbling up from her gut and it’s all she can do to cram a knuckle between her teeth and bite down on it, turn her back to Lucifer before he can catch sight of her and realise something is _amiss_.

“Phone troubles, oh _fallen one?”_ Ella says, and Chloe abandons the knuckle in favour of slapping her entire hand over her mouth to keep the distress squeak at bay as her soul departs her body at record speed.  _What the hell is she doing?_ Is she _trying_  to get them caught?”

“I doubt it’s anything to be concerned over, Ms Lopez.  Merely a minor... inconvenience.”

_“Uh-huh.”_

“Shall we go take some statements?”  Time to separate the two of them.  _Immiedately_.  Ella winks at her.  Chloe glares daggers right back at her.  And Lucifer turns his gaze between the pair of them, eyes narrowing in what she reckons is suspicion.  _Shit_.

“Something I should be aware of, ladies?”

“Nothing!”  Chloe says, all sweetness and sunshine and godawful false cheer, at the same moment Ella drags out a _wellllllllll_  in the same tone she once used to drag _the entire precinct_  into her plot to cover the lieutenant’s entire office in sticky notes before she returned from annual leave.  The same tone she used when she learned the identity of Dan’s pudding thief and used it to secure herself a ride behind the wheel of Lucifer’s car.  The same one with the “fallen one” plate.  The fancy one.  The fast one.  And Chloe isn’t green with envy over that one, _no she most certainly is not._

“Wellllllllll?”

“We... might have heard talk... in a particular grapevine... about ladies wanting to spread you over their morning bagels.  Or, y’know, having you for breakfast instead.”

_“Oh really?”_   Lucifer practically _purrs_ , going so far as to draw Ella under his arm and lean in close to whisper and oh, if looks could kill, Chloe would _smite her where she stood_ for making a drunken confession known to the very person she was confessing _about_.

_“Traitor,”_ she mouths, and Ella all but cackles.

Dread cradles her spine like a lover’s touch.

**Day 15**

_“666 devil’s hotline, please leave a message after the beep!”_

An innocent recording, if it wasn’t for Chloe’s voice in it.

An innocent recording, if not for the only phone holding it.

An innocent recording, if not for the steady footfalls behind her.

There’s no point in scrambling for the innocence she cast aside the moment she picked up his jacket that night at Lux, no point in trying to come up with a suitable defence, and she slumps in her seat, lets the mind-numbing paperwork cushion the impact against her forehead as she groans.

Caught, just as she’d known she would be, and yet unable to resist the amusing picture Ella had painted when she’d suggested the message in the first place.

An arm flashes over her shoulder, past her face, and she flinches away from the sudden movement, guilt in the droop of her posture as her eyes settle on Lucifer’s phone, set neatly on her keyboard, screen illuminating on the call screen as an automated voice lists off the actions he can take for the recorded message.  Feet coming to a stop, shoes shining, crisp lines of his trousers shifting as his weight settles against her desk and his hands find his pockets and she chances a glance up through her lashes to find the barest hint of a smile flirting with the corners of his mouth.

“I do believe you’ve been a _very_  naughty lady, detective,” he says, low and dark and _oh so perfect_ , seductive almost.  If she didn’t have a guilty conscience to contend with, of course.  “And we both know what I do to naughty souls, don’t we?”

“Punish them?”

_There_ , a grin, delighted and genuine right before he laughs and leans down to her level, folding over at the waist to whisper in her ear.

“One date, detective.  A candlelit dinner for two.  Wine and dine me, add in some chocolate, and I might, _might_ , just forgive you for turning my most trusted friend against me.”

Wait, _what?_

He ends the call to his voicemail service and swivels around on his heel before she can wrangle control back between her jaw and brain and stop her mouth flapping open like a fish out of water, spins around in her chair as he goes to take his leave and catches his arm on the backward swing.  That’s just Lucifer, isn’t it, coming in like a tornado, knocking her vision of the world askew, and blowing back out again?

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Not at all!  I expect it back in my pocket say... Thursday, seven o’clock?  Good evening, detective.”

And off he goes, slipping from her grip like the last curls of fog in the early morning, leaving her wondering _what the hell just happened._

**Day 39**

“Lucifer?”

“Hm?”  Less an acknowledgement of his name and more a startled sound as he’s pulled from the ribbons sleep’s wound around him, clumsy hand flopping over his eyes as if rubbing at them will bring him fully to the waking world.  She plays her fingers over his tummy, feels the hitching breath jolt through the chest she uses as a pillow before he _squirms_  under her touch.

_Ticklish_.  Good to know.

“Why is my number saved under BOE on your phone?”

Soft chuckles and arms coming around her, his body rolling so she slides into the space beside him as he settles in close, presses a dozen kisses to her face.

“It’s short for _bane of my existence,”_ he whispers, like it’s a secret for her ears only, lazy and teasing and lacking the bite of offence, though she takes the bait anyway and pinches him none too gently on the side, just under his ribs, grins when he yelps and swats at her in turn.

“Rude.”

“Oh hardly!  No matter the realm I reside in, be it this one or heaven or hell, you will never cease to confuse me, Chloe.  Ever a mystery.”

“Would you have me any other way?”  She asks, and in the low light of such a late hour their eyes meet and hold, her question drifting to an easy silence neither are willing to break at first.  His smile’s a small one, a secret and tender thing for her eyes alone, hand coming up to cup her face in warmth and she turns into the touch just enough to press a kiss to his palm, lips mirroring his in a smile he samples with the sweep of his thumb along its curve.

A quiet moment, a precious moment, one she’ll keep safe in her heart for the rest of her days.  And then Lucifer answers, soft and sincere and so sweet she’ll surely burst.

“I would have you as you are, however you are, now and forever, if you’ll have me.”

_“Always, Lucifer.”_

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a one word prompt call over on tumblr. I set out with a different idea in mind and then _this_ was born instead so expect another take on 666 in the near future. For now, though, it's 04.53 and I need to catch some sleep. Apologies for any spelling errors my brain mush has missed XD


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